


It’s Saturday; Remind Me I’m Alive

by Drarrelie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Correspondence, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, Enemies to Friends, Epistolary, Forgiveness, Guilt, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Isolation, Letters, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarrelie/pseuds/Drarrelie
Summary: The blank piece of parchment stared back at him.What do you think you're doing?it seemed to say.What do you think you’re trying to accomplish? He probably won’t even read it, so what difference could it possibly make?“Probably none,” Draco muttered as he dipped the nib of his quill in the inkpot, “but I’m going to do it anyway.”52 letters in 52 weeks.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 104
Kudos: 84





	1. 2 January 1999

**Author's Note:**

> This is my self-induced 2021 writing challenge, intended to help me overcome the fear of leaping before looking, of posting in parts before the story isn’t already complete.
> 
> Last year, I built a story through [weekly connected drabbles](/series/1612318). And yes, I didn’t know where that story was taking me either, but since those drabbles weren’t written chronologically, I was allowed to structure the plot as I went.
> 
> This time, though, I won’t be able to do that, and for an avid planner like me, the prospect is absolutely terrifying. I can’t promise I will succeed in my endeavour, but I promise I’ll do my best to make this story readworthy. Please, don’t be too hard on me if I fail.
> 
> My dearest [adavison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison), thank you for agreeing to stick with me through this new challenge and readily accept another year of beta reading. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even have considered subjecting myself to this daunting experience.
> 
> NB. Tags will be added as the story unfolds, and since these boys aren’t usually all that prone to follow the rules they’re given, I can’t guarantee the rating won’t be subject to change further down the line.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR and associated publishers. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. The comments and opinions expressed by the original creator do not reflect the views of the author of this transformative work.

_“Our correspondences have wings — paper birds that fly from my house to yours — flocks of ideas crisscrossing the country. Once opened, a connection is made. We are not alone in the world.”_

_-Terry Tempest Williams_

* * *

_Malfoy Manor_

_Saturday 2 January 1999_

_Potter,_

_I am writing this letter to express my gratitude for speaking up for me during my trial. I am painfully aware of the fact that, if it weren_ _’t for you and your inexplicable goodness, my sentence would have been both longer and more severe than the one I was given. I cannot fathom why you decided to do it — I am certainly undeserving after all I have done, to you and so many others — but you did. And because of that, I was able to sleep in a proper bed last night for the first time in what feels like forever._

_I do realise I am still technically a prisoner, trapped in the confines of my home for another year, but after six months in that cramped isolation cell, thirty-seven thousand square feet can hardly be considered a prison (even with the awful state this house is currently in). Just to be able to stand upright without the ceiling grazing the top of my head; to be able to take more than three steps without reaching the farther wall. Not to mention, daylight._

_Although, it is unfortunate that the days are not longer this time of year. Once the sun has set beyond the horizon, it gets so dark that I almost wish I were back in that godforsaken place. No, not really. But at least I had a Never-Ending Candle burning there, whereas here, I have nothing to light up the night, only the wish for a sliver of moonlight to break through the over-clouded sky. If I am ever trusted with a wand again, that will probably be the first spell I cast; Lumos._

_You would think a Ministry-issued Muggle Survival Kit should have included a light of some kind. Preferably a living flame that could also be used to light a fire or two, to chase away the worst of the cold. Not that I am complaining, this house is still warmer and drier than Azkaban could ever be. The Dementors may have been removed from that place after the war, but their chill remains in the walls, and the frigid, wet winds of the North Sea do nothing to chase the cold away._

_This kitchen is warm and toasty, though. In fact, I spent most of yesterday down here, cradling a cup of tea in my hands while watching my assigned cooking elf work by the stove. He is not allowed to talk to me, nor I to him, but that is all right. As long as I have someone to cook for me, I do consider myself lucky. (Merlin, can you imagine if I had to figure out how to make my own meals? I would be starving within a week.) To be honest, just seeing a living soul again is remarkably comforting, a reminder that I am indeed still alive, albeit not as part of the world outside these walls. Yet, I would not have minded the warmth of a crackling fire up in my bedroom._

_Sweet Salazar. Do excuse me, Potter. I didn_ _’t put quill to parchment to bore you with the ins and outs of my tribulations. It is not like me to ramble like this, but… Well, I counted on having another year to compose this letter to you. You see, I was not supposed to be allowed any human contact until I had served my sentence to the end. However, after coming here yesterday, I was informed I had been granted leniency due to my ‘good behaviour’ these past six months. (Can you believe it, Potter? Me, good? In their eyes? No, me neither._ _~~You should be proud of me.~~ _ _) Anyway, according to the missive, a Ministry owl is to arrive here at noon today and each following Saturday, an owl through which I am allowed to exchange one letter a week with a witch or wizard of my choosing._

_You must wonder why, of all people, I chose to write to you. It is not like we have ever been friendly or anything, or even tried to be cordial towards one another. But since you are the only reason I am here in the first place, and not back in that dank, dark hellhole in the middle of the North Sea, I reckoned it only fair that I should seize this opportunity to thank you._

_I do not expect a reply. Surely, you have better things to do than writing letters to your former foe. ~~Unlike me~~. I just wanted you to know that I am grateful for what you did at the trial. And for saving my life._

_Sincerely,_

_DLM_

_PS Circe, my handwriting is untidy._

_PPS Well, at least it is legible, ~~compared to the chicken scratches I remember you being the culprit of back in school. I have not held a quill in eight months; what is your excuse?~~_


	2. 9 January 1999

Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts

Saturday 9 January 1999

Malfoy,

You’d think, after everything, I would’ve learned to expect the unexpected. Yet, here I am, a week after receiving your letter and still not sure whether it’s for real or not. Sure, it’s written in your pretentious loopy cursive and has your fancy Malfoy seal on the envelope, but… Merlin, you actually have colour-matched ink and wax? You know you’re just 18 years old, right? Not 81.

I’ve been meaning to write back to you all week, but between the chaos at the Burrow and the new term starting, I haven’t gotten a quiet moment until now. Plus, I do tend to leave stuff ‘til the last minute so… Anyway, it’s all quiet now, and I figured I might as well do it before the rest of the castle wakes up. It’s not even 5 am, but I’ve never been able to get back to sleep after my nightmares. (I’m guessing you have them too, so I reckon you know what it’s like.) Did you know I’ve been trying to rescue you from that bloody Fiendfyre almost every night this week? I blame your letter for reminding my subconscious.

You got a Muggle Survival Kit? I’m sure you understand why the idea makes me wanna laugh. Surely, even you must be able to admit it’s a bit ironic. I’m guessing that’s something the Ministry supplied you with? Well, I guess a torch would be hard to get to function in an ancient magical house like yours — I can’t even get my wristwatch to work in Grimmauld Place (which is bloody annoying, really) — but see if you haven’t got a box of matches in there somewhere. A small rectangular box with thin wooden sticks in it? If you drag the coated end against the rugged side of the box, swiftly but not too forcefully (or you’ll break the stick), it should light up for long enough to set flame to a candle wick.

Hmm, I’m curious now. What else did you get in that kit? Care to tell me?

\- Harry

PS And fuck off, Malfoy. Your handwriting looks as neat and perfect as it ever has. I bet you just added that PS for a chance to criticise my ‘chicken scratches’. If you must know, I’ve never held a quill until I came to Hogwarts at age 11, and you have no idea how much harder it is to write with a quill than a regular Muggle pen.

PPS Did you know they mentioned your transfer on the Wireless on New Year’s Day? And during prime time too. Just keep up the good work and you’ll be a celebrity in no time.


	3. 16 January 1999

_Malfoy Manor_

_Saturday 16 January 1999_

_Hero Potter,_

_You truly are insufferable, are you not? Tell me, are you even capable of not stepping in and acting the hero in every single situation? Have you ever considered how this annoying habit of yours is affecting the people around you? How disheartening it is for us less saint-like people to always be reminded of our shortcomings every time you careen to the rescue in your garish shining armour? When will you ever tire of having people grovelling at your feet, forever in your debt?_

_But all right, if that is what you want, then who am I to deprive you of this barmy ambition? If that is what you want, I shall rise to the occasion and indulge you in your quest for canonisation. My only wish; that you turn to someone else with your distress once you have had enough of the grovelling, grateful masses. (Unless you crave the ‘I told you so’ speech, in which case, I would be nothing but happy to oblige.) Well then, are you ready, Potter? (And I encourage you to imagine me on my knees, looking up at you adoringly as I say:)_

_Thank you, O Almighty Saviour, for introducing me to the wonders of Muggle matches._

_There. Are you happy now? I can only hope that you are, because I will not be persuaded to an encore anytime soon._

_In all seriousness, though, I must concede it was rather fortunate for me that I chose to write to you and not any of the others on my list of potential recipients. None of the others would have known how to make fire out of an unassuming (and frightfully feeble) stick of wood._

_Merlin, I had nearly forgotten what it felt like, being warm and dry. My circulation has always left something to be desired, and so I am not unused to feeling cold. My fingers and toes have always been cool, my nose and ears always numb after mere minutes outside during the winter, It has never bothered me much before, and the truth is, it was not until I sat in front of that blazing fire last Saturday that I realised just how frozen I have been these past few months. I never would have thought a simple Muggle invention like that could ever be able to improve my quality of life to such an extent._

_I do have another conundrum regarding the content of the survival kit, though, and since you seem amenable to the idea of guiding this ignorant wizard in his quest for Muggle wisdom, may you enlighten me on the purpose of ‘tooth paste’? Not even with my considerable knowledge of Potions can I even begin to fathom the objectives of creating a paste with (what I — if the picture on the packaging is to be trusted — can only assume is) ground human teeth, let alone deciding to include said paste in a survival package of any kind. To be completely honest, and with the risk of coming across as the prejudiced pure-blood I was raised to become, I must say the concept strikes me as nothing but revolting._

_But enough about me and my poor excuse for a life. Pardon my surprise, but… You are back at Hogwarts? I would have thought you were halfway to becoming the next Minister for Magic by now. Or at least in Auror Training? (Because, if my memory serves me correctly, that is what you always wanted to become, right?) Surely, a war hero like you would be granted any future you wanted without the credentials required from the rest of us mere mortals? After all, what are N.E.W.T.s when you have ‘Saved the World at Age Seventeen’ on your CV?_

_So, how is school these days? I figure it must have changed a fair bit since… Well, since I was last there. Is Peeves still pestering the corridors, at least? Is Binns still droning on as usual? Who was appointed as the new Headmaster?_

_You cannot possibly imagine the frustration at being so cut off from the world as I currently am, to have no knowledge of the happenings outside of these walls. For all I know, Lockhart could be the new Minister and Trelawney Editor in Chief for The Daily Prophet. I have no way of knowing if our world is suddenly invaded by rampant Muggles or uproaring Goblins. You could tell me anything, and I wouldn’t have any means of verifying your claims, no way of knowing whether you are lying or not._

_However, I do not doubt that you speak the truth regarding the mention of me on the Wireless. I am certain they would not hesitate to slander my tainted family name in the name of public service now that they are able to do so without repercussions. I am not as naïve as to think you are unaware of my childhood aspirations of becoming famous, but even you must be clever enough to deduce this was hardly what I imagined being renowned for._

_Sincerely,_

_DLM_

_PS Of course a plebian like you would not recognise traditional ancestry ink and wax. It has been used by my forefathers ever since the creation of our family crest, an ever-replenishing stock of stationary linked to our bloodline, meant to serve as a verification of the quill-wielder’s identity for the reader of any document. All ancient families have ink and wax like this, colour-matched with their crest and unusable to anyone but the family’s members. I am willing to bet even the Weasleys have it if you asked them._

_PPS I thought we had established that you get off on saving people, Potter? Surely, rescuing someone from Fiendfyre should not count as a nightmare, but a hero’s wet dream._


	4. 23 January 1999

Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts

Saturday 23 January 1999

Drama Llama Malfoy,

Aww, there’s the prat we all love to hate. Phew, what a relief! You know, I was a bit concerned there for a while after reading your first letter, but I feel sooo much better now that I know you’re still you, and not some overly courteous impostor or mind-altered shadow of the good old Malfoy I once used to know.

If I hadn’t just witnessed you spending your entire yearly quota of humble gratitude just a few weeks ago, I’d never even contemplate wasting another piece of parchment on a reply to that sarcastic rant of yours. Merlin, Malfoy, you’re such a fucking drama queen sometimes, I don’t even… But I know you, and I get it. Your oversized pride gets threatened and bam! Diva to the rescue. Just like when Buckbeak grazed your impeccable porcelain skin in Third Year. You do know pride is a sign of low self-esteem, right? Maybe you should work on that?

Considering the risk of rousing another rant, I’m not really sure I should ‘enlighten you on the purpose of toothpaste’ right now. The answer is bound to hurt your pride even more, so if you don’t think you can man up and handle it like a normal person, just skip to the next paragraph, okay? Right. So, toothpaste. It’s not made of teeth, silly, it’s for cleaning them. Just put it on a toothbrush (you probably have one of those in that kit too, a plastic stick with bristles on one end?) and rub it against your teeth — all reachable sides — for at least two minutes, twice a day. It may sound tricky and tedious compared to a Mouth Freshening Charm, but I urge you to try it. Please. If you haven’t been able to clean your teeth all this time, I can’t even imagine how foul your breath must be by now. Your mouth must taste like… Oh, just do it, already. You were able to make fire, for Circe’s sake. You can do this too.

What the hell made you think I’d ever be interested in becoming Minister for Magic? Godric, your brain really works in mysterious ways sometimes. And not that I have any idea how you know about my Auror aspirations, but surely you would know me well enough to know I’d never use my name like that to get ahead. If I ever get the chance to be an Auror, I want it to be because I have the right skills and abilities to do it, not because of my fucking name.

You seem to think I like this whole celebrity nonsense… And now that I think about it, maybe you always have? Well, I don’t. In fact, nothing can be farther from the truth. Did you know I have to Polyjuice myself every time I want to visit Diagon Alley without being overrun by ~~crazy idiots~~ enthusiastic fans? Did you know I can’t even walk the halls of Hogwarts unaccompanied by several friends without being attacked by reverent pre-teens at every turn? Seriously, Malfoy, I swear, most of the time, I feel like a fucking prey. ~~And I can’t even complain about it, ‘cause then people would think I’m an ungrateful bastard.~~

Apart from that, though, Hogwarts is actually rather good these days, much better than I ever remember it being before. (And I rather liked it back in the day, before Voldemort came and ruined it, for all of us.) Most of it is thanks to McGonagall, of course — she’s the new Headmistress, by the way, and way more impartial than Dumbledore ever was. You know, at the start of the year, she even took ten house points from me for questioning her decision to not let us ‘Eighth Year’s’ play for the Quidditch house teams. She said it wouldn’t be fair to the regular students if we obstructed their chances to play. I guess I can see her point, but… Can you believe it?

Want to know a secret? I mean, it’s not like you can tell anybody, but, well, I sneak out to the pitch sometimes, late at night when I can’t sleep, flying laps around the stands and chasing a Snitch in the dark, all by my lonesome. It’s not the same as playing a real game, of course, not without another Seeker there to challenge me, to keep me on my toes. But it’s better than not flying at all.

Do you ever miss it, Malfoy? Do you miss the thrill of the chase, the wind whipping in your hair as you soar through the sky, the swooping feeling in your stomach as you dive at breakneck speed towards the ground? I bet you do. And, shit… You don’t even get to go outside to taste the fresh air, let alone with a broom. Fuck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have reminded you. That was…

You know what? Once you’re out of that place, how about meeting up for a Seekers’ game sometime, just you and me and the Snitch? For old time’s sake? I’d even let you win if you wanted me to. Anything to get to race you again. I still haven’t flown against anyone who’s been able to push me to my limits the way you always used to do. (And I had the opportunity to play several Seekers’ games against Krum over the summer.)

Anyway, you wanted to know about school. It’s all right, I guess. Many new teachers, of course, after everything. McGonagall has done a great job recruiting them too, and she’s even managed to persuade Binns to retire (finally!). Feels strange without you here, though. You might have been a royal pain in the arse since day one, but… I guess Hogwarts just isn’t the same without your haughty sneer to get on my nerves.

Now, go brush your teeth, you fucking drama queen.

\- Harry

PS If you call me the H-word one more time, I’ll never write you back again.

PPS And just so you know, it’s not always I manage to save you in those nightmares, Malfoy. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I did. But I guess they’re better than the ones where I have to watch you bleed to death on a wet tiled floor; at least I get to end my life on a broom.


	5. 30 January 1999

_Malfoy Manor_

_Saturday 30 January 1999_

_Killjoy Potter,_

_So, you miss me, do you? Well, I cannot say I am all that surprised; I do tend to leave quite an impression on most people, after all. I think it might have something to do with my fantabulous hair. Wouldn’t you agree? It is rather striking, isn’t it? (The best gift I ever got from my father, if you ask me.)_

_However, I doubt my moonlight-coloured coiffure is the reason you miss me. I don’t know why, but I have never taken you for a hair person. (How could you be, considering the excessive amount of gingers you keep in your crowd?) An arse person, perhaps, or one of those boring eye people, but… Or maybe you just miss me for my brilliant brain? I know intelligence can be intimidating to some less gifted people, but there is no need to be afraid, Potter. I would never think less of you If you preferred to remember me by my infallible wit. Or my supreme sense of humour?_

_I wish I could be there for you, to be able to deliver your daily dose of Draco perfection, but unfortunately, I have other obligations that require my attention at the moment. Important things that I cannot get out of, however much I tried. That is not to say I have stopped caring about you, Potter, nor that you are not important to me still. And I promise you this: as soon as the circumstances allow, I will be back by your side, pestering your every waking moment as if no time has passed at all. How could I ever deny you my enchanting presence now that I know how much you long for it? And who knows, having me by your side might also help to repel those presumptuous admirers of yours? I bet one icy glare from yours truly — the despised Death Eater — would be enough for them all to beat a hasty retreat._

_You might object to the fame — and I am not blaming you. I mean, who would ever want to be famous for a simple Expelliarmus? For a representative of the bold and reckless, you must admit it rather lame — but no, I fail to see why that would have anything to do with not wanting to become Minister. You see, the Minister post has nothing to do with fame, but influence. And yes, I did indeed think you would be interested in having influence over what happens to the wizarding society now that the war is over, to have the power to make sure bridges are mended, houses are united, victims are taken care of, and people like me are punished._

_But I must concede, you not wanting to go into politics is probably a good thing. Do not get me wrong, but you are much too temperamental to ever be able to handle a responsibility like that. Much too feisty and self-righteous for the bargaining and compromising needed, for being able to conduct endless negotiations and entreaties in a civilised manner. A question for you, though, do you possess the cool level-headedness and strategic mindset needed to become an Auror? Or do you plan to jump heedlessly into the fray as usual?_

_Speaking of heedless behaviour, thank you for reminding me about flying, it effectively ruined my entire week. The only thing I can use a broom for these days is cleaning, which is not what I would choose to do with my Nimbus if I had an alternative. This house is in dire need of a proper clean-up, though, and I am trying my best to restore it to its former glory with the limited means available to me._

_It is a shame you never saw the Manor before the noseless one moved in. (What did you call him? Ridley?) I still remember it so clearly, how lovely and well-tended it always was under Mother’s care, how warm and welcoming. It all changed when he came, with his snake and his devoted minions, sucking the life out of the house as only he could. It was a right mess by the end, especially after Greyback and his pack took over the West Wing. I remember the distress in Mother’s letters, could read it between the lines even if she never mentioned it in so many words for fear of our correspondence being intercepted._

_And to make matters worse, the Ministry’s Curse-Breakers seem to have had a field day going through the entire Manor with a fine-tooth comb these past few months, presumably in search for dark artefacts and residue of dark magic to sanitise the place before they could allow me back into my home. Not that I mind the gesture, it is rather comforting to know no nefarious objects are lurking in the house ready to activate at any given moment, but that does not mean I appreciate them leaving the place looking like a tornado just popped by for a visit. I understand if they wanted to find and remove anything related to dark magic from the premises, but I fail to see why this would require centuries-old tomes being thrown around haphazardly in the library, or the contents of Mother’s underwear drawer being shredded all over her bedchamber floor. There are still rooms I have not been able to enter — and others I dread to — but I will, eventually. As they say, what does not kill you makes you stronger._

_It is heavy work without a wand, though. No Accio, no Depulso, no Vanishing Spells. Not even a basic Wingardium Leviosa to move things around. I reckon it will take a fair while to go through all one-hundred and twenty-eight rooms the Muggle way, but if there is anything I have in abundance these days, it is time. I cannot complain about the physical exertion, though. If you have trouble sleeping, I can only recommend it. Once I lay my head on the pillow after a day’s worth of labour, there is no need for potions — I sleep like a rock. My body is aching all over and I am sore in muscles I was not even aware I had, but I figure it will be worth it too. Salazar, this restoration will have me look like a bona fide Adonis once I get out of here._

_So, McGonagall managed to retire Binns, then? I am not sure I want to know how she did it, but I must admit she can be a fairly intimidating witch once she sets her mind to it. And, as you say, she is capable of being objective in a way few others are, and I have no doubt she makes a remarkable Headmistress, tartan and all._

_You have made me curious by the mention of new teachers, though. Anyone I know? Or at least know of? I don’t know why I care, I am not counting on ever being allowed back, but… Well, I guess it is comforting, in a way, to know the world is still turning out there somewhere even if I am not able to witness it._

_And yes, Potter, I will hold you to that Seekers’ game. I cannot wait to wipe that smug grin off your stupid face. And don’t you dare even consider throwing it, you pillock! I may be out of practice, and I may not come out victorious on the first try, but mark my words, the day I beat you to the Snitch, it is going to be fair and square. And that is not pride, but plain self-respect._

_Sincerely,_

_DLM_

_PS I may have become addicted to this tooth-brushing thing. It honestly makes me feel like a man reborn._

_PPS You do know expletives usage is a sign of poor vocabulary, right?_ _Maybe you should work on that?_


	6. 6 February 1999

Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts

Saturday 6 February 1999

Deluded Malfoy,

Merlin, just get down off that high horse already, before you fall and hurt yourself and that precious little arse of yours. No, I really don’t need you back in my life pestering me anytime soon. In fact, if you could stay as far away as possible, it’d be great. Just for a century or two? Although, I must say I am a bit curious about testing that fan repellant theory of yours sometime. Your reasoning in this case is interesting and may indeed have its merits.

Which isn’t something that can be said about your reasonings when it comes to defence. I may not like my celebrity status, but if there’s anything about it that I don’t mind, it’s being an advocate for nonviolence. Why would it be lame to bring down your opponent with a Disarming Charm? If an Expelliarmus is all that’s needed, why even consider using any form of violence? And even though a basic First Year charm like Expelliarmus may seem too simple and anticlimactic to bring down the Darkest wizard of our time, you must admit it worked.

Sometimes I wish I were more apt for politics, but as you say, I would never make a good Minister for Magic. I don’t have the patience or diplomacy skills Shacklebolt has, and as long as he’s doing a great job, there’s no need for me or anyone else to challenge him for the post.

I do think I have what it takes to be a good Auror, though, and I’m certain Ron and I will make a brilliant team. We have been fighting evil ever since our first year at Hogwarts and we know each other inside and out. I encourage him whenever he’s wary and he holds me back when I’m being too reckless. We complement one another perfectly, and between my determination and his strategic thinking, I’m quite sure there’s nothing we can’t face together.

You’re asking about the new teachers. No, I don’t think you would have met any of them, except maybe for Elphias Doge, the new History Professor? He’s been working for the Wizengamot for ages, so I suppose your dad could have introduced you at some point. Although old and wrinkled, he’s very passionate about his subject, and his lessons can never be called boring. Such a change from Binns that it’s hard to think of it as the same subject really.

I can’t imagine you ever knew Glyn Raywood, the new Transfiguration Professor. Although he’s a Slytherin — your new Head of House, in fact, since Slughorn retired — he’s a half-blood and has been abroad for his research since before we were born. Apparently, he and McGonagall have known each other since their own Hogwarts days, and I totally get why she chose him for the post. You see, she’s been very adamant on breaking up old house prejudices this year, and he’s a good choice for a Slytherin representative to remind people that being sorted into Slytherin doesn’t automatically mean you have to become an unreliable, wicked git. He’s an inspiring role model for your fellow housemates and a good reminder for the rest of us not to judge a snake by its colour alone.

Then there’s Aya Ambarella, a thirty-something witch from South America. I have no idea where McGonagall found her, but she went to Castelobruxo and hasn't set foot in Britain before this past summer. She teaches Defence, or, as it’s called now, DAHM (Defence and Healing Magic). I don’t know why we’ve never been taught basic healing before — I certainly could’ve had good use of it these past few years — but I can definitely see the logic behind combining defence and healing. Most students seem to like the change and according to Professor Ambarella, this is how they’ve always done it at Castelobruxo so it obviously works.

Someone I believe you should’ve been able to know but haven’t been allowed to meet yet (as far as I know) is your aunt Andromeda Tonks. I know your relatives disowned her before you were born, and I guess that if you ever heard of her at all, it mustn’t have been anything good. But she’s a wonderful woman and everyone here loves her. I haven’t experienced her teaching myself since I don’t take Muggle Studies, but Ron and Nev and the others say she’s brilliant. I love having her in the castle, though, especially since it means I get to see my godson Teddy almost every day.

Come to think of it, I doubt you even knew Teddy existed, did you? Well, he’s Andromeda’s grandson and, I guess, your cousin. He’s not even a year old, born only a few weeks before the final battle, and since both his parents were killed that night, Andromeda is his guardian now. When she’s teaching, Molly Weasley takes care of him, but when he’s not at the Burrow, I’m helping Andromeda with him as much as I can. He’s such a ray of sunshine, that kid, and I swear his laugh is enough to make anyone smile, despite how low they may feel otherwise.

I was a little sceptical about getting a new Head of House, but as things turned out, I couldn’t have wished for a better replacement for McGonagall. Faith Silverberry, the new Potions Professor, is amazing — and not only because she happens to have been good friends with my mum, but because she’s a really good teacher too. She’s patient and kind, and more pedagogic than Snape could ever dream of becoming. And get this: she can explain stuff so it makes sense, not only to me but even to Nev and Seamus. Pretty impressive, huh? Apparently, she and my mum were Potions partners all through school, and so she seems to have an endless supply of stories to tell me about my parents. (Nothing you’d ever need to worry about, right Malfoy, relying on the tales of a stranger to get to know what your parents were like?)

Thanks, by the way, for the image of you Muggle-cleaning your way through that ginormous house of yours. (128 rooms? For a family of 3? That’s ~~insane~~ a lot. What the hell are they all even for?) It’s highly entertaining to think about you muttering and swearing as you try to get rid of the dust and cobwebs with nothing but a first-class Nimbus at hand. (You know, even most Muggles are better equipped than that, with hoovers and mops and cleaners of all kinds.) The idea of you collapsing sore and sweaty in bed every night after a hard day’s work has effectively brightened my entire week.

\- Harry

PS I called him Tom Riddle, as this was his real name before he came up with that pretentious moniker he liked to intimidate people with.

PPS I suppose you could technically be considered handsome by some people who care enough to notice. And yes, apparently you’re clever enough to have given Hermione a good run for the top grades all these years. But why should I miss your obnoxious vanity? Why should I long for your ‘brilliant brain’ when I’m best friends with the brightest student of our generation? I simply said I’d have appreciated a rivalling Seeker to play with sometimes, and an antagonist to rile up in the corridors when I’m down and in need of an adrenaline boost. If Misinterpretation was a N.E.W.T. subject, you’d ace it.


	7. 13 February 1999

_Malfoy Manor_

_Saturday 13 February 1999_

_Prickly Potter,_

_Why am I not surprised that you take such pleasure in my misery? But of course, if there is ever a chance for me to bring a smile to your face, I am nothing but happy to oblige. Although, I feel compelled to rectify the perverted image you seem to have about me; I would never go to bed damp from anything but a cleansing shower or a revitalising bath. So, that sheen you picture on my skin every night? It’s not from clammy perspiration, but condensation from my very hot and humid bathroom, thank you very much._

_Well, enough about me and my soon-to-be irresistible body. I read your update about the changes at Hogwarts with much interest. It sounds as if McGonagall has surrounded herself with a competent staff, better than any staff her predecessors employed, at any rate. (I know you looked up to Dumbledore and that you probably will defend him to the end of time, but even you must concede some of the Professors he kept around were only there because of sheer nepotism.) Additionally, I’m pleased to learn about the Headmistress’ efforts to break old house prejudices. I’d wager the presence of a fine role model as Professor Raywood’s will be just as effective in her cause as I imagine my own absence being. After all, no one would want an ‘unreliable, wicked git’ like me influencing the snake younglings, do they?_

_Speaking of prejudices, I cannot say why the idea of a Gryffindor Potions Professor seems so hard for me to imagine. It is not that I don’t think talented potioneers could come from any house, but for some reason, I have always considered the Professor’s post dedicated to the Slytherin Head of House. Which, I do realise, is an absurd assumption to make, but nevertheless, one I have entertained without question all these years. Maybe it could have something to do with the Potions classroom and Professor’s office being located so close to the Slytherin quarters? Or the blatant ineptitude some of your housemates insisted on demonstrating at every opportunity? Either way, I find myself intrigued by the notion of having my preconceptions challenged yet again — I have had reason to experience this rather frequently lately — and for such a menial matter as a teacher’s appointment this time._

_It is good to know your potions skills aren’t as irredeemable as you always made them out to be. Otherwise, that Auror dream of yours would have been quite impossible to obtain, would it not? Although, I clearly remember a rather impressive improvement in your brewing for the better part of Sixth Year? Something I doubt Slughorn had anything to do with it. Nor Sev, for that matter, considering his constant muttering about your suspiciously near-perfect assignments at the time. I would have made time to investigate the matter further, hadn’t it been for the other tasks that occupied my every waking moment during that year. Care to enlighten me about your secret?_

_I must agree DAHM sounds like a clever idea indeed. With all the strange injuries constantly happening around the castle, having all students versed in basic healing could probably save Madam Pomfrey quite a few headaches every year. Maybe, if we had studied Healing back then, you wouldn’t have stood there paralysed like a stupefied buffoon after cutting me open. Maybe you could have even healed the wounds you caused and spared Sev the trouble._

_I knew about my aunt and her daughter, ‘your family’s worst disgrace,’ as Father used to remind Mother every time they were accidentally brought up in conversation. I was also aware of the daughter’s relationship with Professor Lupin; the noseless one took great pleasure in informing us about their wedding, humiliating Aunt Bella, my parents, and myself in front of the entire inner circle. ‘Will you babysit the cubs?’ I remember him asking me, his voice dripping with such disgust it had me wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole._

_I recall seeing Lupin’s body in the Great Hall after the battle, lying next to a woman I assume was his wife, my cousin. I was not aware of the child, though. Teddy? What kind of name is that? It makes it sound as if he were a plush toy, not a baby boy. And you are his godfather? Merlin, help him._

_I have never been much for children myself. If anything, I find them rather loud and needy creatures who cannot let anything alone and tend to leave a right mess in their wake. Granted, I have not met too many in my life, but at least the ones I have all fit into that description. I figure they might gain the prerequisites to become a bit more bearable once they are able to express themselves with words rather than wails and whines, but I have not found any proof of this theory as of yet. I am sure Pansy and Daphne are thrilled about having a baby around, though. They always used to daydream about having their own, what to name them, how to dress them, et cetera. It was awfully tedious listening to them once they started in on the subject._

_So, any big plans for Valentine’s Day tomorrow? I bet all the girls (and women, and hags) in Britain are standing in line waiting for you to ask them out so they can have a chance with the Golden Boy. I figure it must be hard to choose when you can have any girl you want, right? But no, how could I forget? The Weasley girl. She is supposed to be your happily ever after, isn’t she? The love interest you returned to after the victorious battle against the evil villain? So, are you ready to settle down then? Move to a quaint little cottage with your wifey and start working on some of those urchins of your own? You know you’re just 18 years old, right? Not 28._

_Sincerely,_

_DLM_

_PS You are telling me that you had no urge to inflict pain on the man who killed your parents? No urge to take vengeance for all those tortured and murdered in the name of his radical agenda?_ _Excuse me if I don’t believe you._

_PPS I had no idea the mere mention of my blond mane would be able to rouse such a strong reaction from you._ _Did my words happen to touch a sore spot?_


	8. 20 February 1999

Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts

Saturday 20 February 1999

Dryffindor Malfoy,

It’s interesting how you’re always so quick to jump to conclusions about me. Not very Slytherin, is it, to talk before thinking? I thought snakes were supposed to be more calculating than that, more prudent, weighing pros and cons, analysing possible options, all that stuff. Making groundless assumptions sounds more like something a Gryffindor would do, don’t you think? Tell me, is this something you always do or is it only when it comes to me? Should I perhaps be flattered by the special treatment?

I never said I didn’t have the urge to Crucio that fucking bastard to the end of the earth and beyond. I did. And I certainly possessed the desire needed to do it, too, had I allowed myself to. But I didn’t. Not only because I was exhausted from a long night of no sleep and too much adrenaline, or because I was so fucking sick of all the fighting and just wanted it all to be over, but also because it felt so fucking good to be able to keep my cool, to rile him up by my mere calmness, to outwit that arrogant shit who thought he was so smart and yet, when it really mattered, understood nothing.

Honestly, Malfoy, even you must be able to see the irony here? That you, after seven years of constantly mocking me for my rash decisions and reckless behaviour, actually dare to question my motives for the one moment in my life when I’ve been able to rein in my instinctual lion in favour of all those Slytherin traits you’ve always valued so highly.

Yes, I have them too; resourcefulness, cunning, determination, ambition, pride — even the Sorting Hat sensed them in me, long before I learnt to appreciate those aspects of my personality myself. Life was so much easier then, back when the world was black and white — or in our case, green and red. One is good, the other evil; no greys in between to smudge the edges of our carefully sketched-out map of life. But that’s not what real life is like, is it? We both know that by now. As your cousin Sirius once said, ‘we all have light and dark within us’, and we all carry traits from all four houses. More or less prominent, of course, but still.

There’s a lot of Slytherin in me — even if self-preservation isn’t nearly my strong suit — and I bet there’s quite a lot of Ravenclaw in you, just as there is in Hermione. And even if you’ll never admit it, I know there’s a fierce lion hiding somewhere deep inside you too. I glimpsed it once, you know, lurking in a thick foliage of deliberate uncertainty. I might never find out what made you do it, but the courage you showed that day when you refused to identify me is one of the main reasons I’m still alive. That we all are.

Now, don’t let this get to your head. It’s already bigger than could ever be healthy, and I’d hate for it to explode one day when you least expect it. (With my usual luck, it’d probably happen on a day when I’m on call too, so I’d be appointed your very own clean-up crew…)

I guess I shouldn’t be mad at you for assuming I would get back together with Ginny, though. Everybody seems to have expected I should. But I haven’t. At least, not yet. Ron still thinks it’d be a great idea, and maybe it would. I mean, we’re practically family already, and unlike most other girls, she knows the real me, the real Harry.

With other girls, I always feel like I have all these expectations to live up to, expectations I already know I’m never going to meet because they have this idolised image of me — this ‘hero’ — and despite what you called me a few letters ago, even you know that’s not who I really am. That I’m just Harry, an ordinary boy who only did what he had to do, and put plenty of people in mortal danger as he did.

Ginny knows this, she knows me, and she still likes spending time with me. And I like her too, so I’m not really sure why we haven’t gotten back together yet. Unlike you, I actually like children, and I do long for a family of my own someday. I’m not saying it has to happen straight away, I’m fully aware I’m only 18 (although it sometimes feels like I’ve aged two decades in the past two years), but I do want it. I want it with someone who feels like an equal, not anyone who started out as an avid fan. And I honestly have no idea who that’d be, if not Ginny. Plus, you know, at least with her, I wouldn’t have to worry about being accepted by my future in-laws, right?

So yeah, my Valentine’s was really wicked. Just as pink-tinted and romantic as you’d expect it to be. Not. In fact — and I’m only telling you this to, again, prove how little you know me — I spent the day with Teddy over at Andromeda’s quarters.

Not that I couldn’t have gotten a date if I wanted to. I could have. It’s just… Dating freaks me out, okay. I just don’t know how to be around girls. No matter how sweet or lovely they are, I always feel awkward around them and end up saying the wrong thing. Nothing you’ve ever experienced, I’m sure. You’ve always been quite popular with the girls, right? Care to tell a dating dork like me how you do it?

\- Harry

PS Teddy is a perfectly valid name, you poncy git. He’s named Edward Remus Lupin, after his father and grandfather, and it suits him just fine.

PPS And it’s not like you have any right to talk when it comes to weird names. I mean, Draco? Who even names their child that? No wonder you turned out the way you did.


	9. 27 February 1999

_Malfoy Manor_

_Saturday 27 February 1999_

_Dorky Potter,_

_Do excuse my incredulity, but are you seriously asking me for dating advice? Me, who is currently a social pariah trapped up in his home, who isn’t allowed to interact with anyone but his former school nemesis and a haughty house-elf who looks at me like I am the vilest scum of the earth? Surely, you must know of someone else to turn to for help?_

_No?_

_I’m sorry, my mistake. Of course, you don’t. I forgot about the appalling absence of class and charm among your Gryffindor friends. Well, as I was indeed a coveted date back in the day ~~when I was still allowed to actually meet people~~ , it would be my honour to aid you in this matter in any way that I can._

_There are many factors to consider if you want to become a successful suitor. Manners, of course, and conversational skills. Tact, humour, attentiveness, poise. Not to mention, the advantages of an optimal appearance; just take my word for it, a neat coiffure and an impeccable wardrobe can do wonders for one’s confidence when needed. Alas, I am painfully aware that several, if not all, of the above are most likely foreign concepts to you, but even so, I am fairly certain I would have been able to find a way to whip you into shape, had I only been able to tutor you properly in person. However, since this is not the case, I do not know how much I would be able to do from here._

_Had it been anyone else, I would probably advise them to ‘just be yourself’, but since it’s you we are talking about here, I am positive this approach on the matter could only lead to disaster. Then again, I cannot imagine you ever being able to be anything other than yourself either, so… Potter, I’m afraid there is no way for me to sugar-coat this, but I reckon no matter what you do, you will always be an awkward dork with the ladies. Have you ever tried dating a boy?_

_Enlighten me, though, why do you even worry about the dating scene? You said it yourself, you have the Weasley girl, and as far as I can tell from your letter, you are already planning out the rest of your life with her, are you not? I cannot deny what you have together sounds awfully romantic and like a true love story for the ages. Not._

_Seriously, Potter, do you not have higher ambitions for your love life than that? You, who are able to practically pick and choose any person you like, any life that you want? Merlin, I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be passionate romantics, all serenades and roses, knights in shining armour on noble, white steeds, et cetera, et cetera. What the shell happened?_

_Let me tell you something, Potter. I have lived my whole life knowing I will not be allowed to choose my own spouse when the time comes, that I am expected to accept an arranged marriage to someone who my parents consider a suitable wife and bearer of heirs to the future head of the family. I used to think this fate of mine was an abominable injustice, the ultimate proof of life’s unfairness, but considering the circumstances, I should probably recognise it for the blessing it is, right? My only chance of a life not in complete solitude. I mean, who would ever voluntarily marry an ex-Death Eater like me, a convicted felon?_

_But back to you and your situation. As someone who will never be allowed to marry out of love, who may not ever have the opportunity to experience desire, devotion, lust, or passion with my future life partner, I urge you to genuinely think this through before you decide to settle for some mediocre, lukewarm contentedness. Do not marry a friendly sibling, Potter. Marry someone who has the ability to make your heart race and your toes curl. Someone who challenges you and always inspires you to become more than you were the day before. Someone who knows all your flaws and still can’t get enough of you. Someone who makes you feel alive._

_Do not get me wrong, I am not saying this person cannot be your Weasley girl; just that I would be greatly surprised if it was. (And not that it is my place, but since you seem to have forgotten, may I remind you of the embarrassingly high levels of worshipping that girl conducted around you during her first few years at Hogwarts? I know you are as oblivious as they come, but not even you could have missed how she ogled you at every opportunity, how she choked up and stammered whenever she tried to talk to you, how she blushed every time you even looked her way. It was nothing but nauseating to witness, believe me.)_

_Well, enough about her. It is interesting to read you describing yourself as a ‘boy who just did what he had to do, and put plenty of people in mortal danger as he did’. I do not know if you realise it, Potter, but this description could just as well apply to yours truly too. Only I turned out to be on the wrong side of it all, in the end. I may have been brought up on the villain’s territory, but just as you, I always did what I thought was right, what people expected of me, what I hoped would ensure the safety of my loved ones. And I am not trying to excuse my actions here (although, I realise it may seem like I am); I am simply pointing out the irony of life._

_And yes, now that you mention it, my inner lion does seem to be quite partial to you. I’ve tried to cage it, but the rambunctious little fellow, unfortunately, has no respect for rules and regulations — much like other lions I know of._

_Sincerely,_

_DLM_

_PS I will do my best not to let your words blow my head up. If anything, I can’t rely on you to be able to clean the mess out of my invaluable heirloom carpets._

_PPS I have now, for several weeks, been searching the manor’s library for any entries of one Tom Riddle, but to no avail._ _Are you sure that was his name?_


	10. 6 March 1999

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Incessant typos due to excessive alcohol intake (Harry, not me)

Gryff Twr, Hogwarts

Satrrday ~~5~~ 6 March 1999

Damn it, Mafloy,

I can’t believe your having me up this blooody early… It’s only like — well, fuck me, it’s actually half ten, but we only got back a few hours ago and I’m so fucking tired I can’t even… Yet, here I am, ~~at your service~~ awake, cursing the sound of ~~these oafs’~~ my roommates’ unbelievably loud snores and the fucking sun glaring through the window, bouncing off the parchment and straight into my grainy eyes. And it’s all your fault, M. I swear, if it weren’t for you and your stupid Saturday owl, I’d… I’d be sound asleep right now, just like everyone else. But, nooooo……… Instead I’m up, fighting impending nausea and the headache from hell just to… 

Fuck. Why must I always leave evreything til the last minute? I fucking knew we were going out last night, and yet… You see, it was Ron’s b-day the othre day, so of course we had to go to the 3Bs to celebrate him porperly as soon as weekend struck. And I knew there’d be alcohol, but fuck, I’ve never been so plastered in my life… Have yuo ever been drunk, M? Ever woken up the next day feeling like you’re heads about to explode and you’re stomach is about to turn inside out if you so much as open your eyes? Merlin, I don’t even know if I’m hungover or still drunk… How’d you know that?

I guess ‘technically’ I could’ve written this letter earlier in the week. ~~Ah yeah, that’d been brilliant ‘cause then I could’ve been asleep right now instead of~~ But, you know me; why do it now when you can do it later, yeah? Usually works pretty well too, until there’s suddenly no later left to… D’you know if there’s a cure to recurrent ~~prorcas~~ ~~porcrast~~ procasrtination? ‘Cause if there is, I obviously need it. Stat.

Fuck, my head hurts. ~~There’s this pounding, you know, and then the sun is, like, slicing at my temples like blades of steel and~~ Merlin. If only Hold on Ah yeah, nothing beats a morning cuppa. (Is’nt house-elves the best?) Okay, M, I’m here for you now. Let’s do this.

So, care to tell me when you suddenly decided to become such a blooody romantic? Because I sure as hell can’t remember ever seeing any signs of you being one before? In all the years ~~I’ve known you~~ since we first met, you’ve been nothing but a calculating, conniving bastard, and now, here you are, suddenly talking about stuff like desire, devotion, lust, and passion as if they ~~meant something to~~ weren’t foreign concepts to you. As if you actually longed to experience emotions like that with someone someday.

‘Someone who has the ability to make your heart race and your toes curl’? Seriously, M, what the fuck happened to you?

But okay, let’s say I humour you and your sudden romantic streak. Let’s say its not a ruse and that you actually want a relationship like that in the future. If you ask me — which I’m quite sure you don’t, but you know what? I’m going to give it to you anyway because, well, for fucks sake, M, ~~your resignation is~~ I think you need to hear it — that arranged marriage nonsense sounds blooody archaic and narrow-minded to me, like something belonging to the fucking past and nothing that should ever dictate the lifes of anyone ~~our age~~ of our generation. For Godric’s sake, M, you’re not a bloody slave to your later-than-late ancestors. I say, fuck them. If you don’t want to ~~follow~~ conform to the ~~idiotic~~ intolerant traditions of those ~~inbred brats~~ prissy twats, then do’nt. If you want to choose your own wife, do it! If you want to marry for love, just fucking do it already! 

You may be a poncy git, M, but you know what? Even poncy gits should have the right to be happpy. (Well, as long as their happiness isn’t depending on someone else’s misery, that is.) Who knows, maybe a ~~passionate sex life~~ loving relationship would even make you less of a git? Maybe if you found someone to love like that, you’d eventually end up less of an arse? What if the loving devotion to a wife is what’d finally make you ~~nice to~~ bearable to be around?

Can’t really see who’d be interested in marrying you, tho, but I’m sure there must be someone out there for you, just waiting to be swept off their feet by you’re unparalleled charm and scatting wit. At least ~~your pretty~~ you look ok, so there’s that. 

And by the way, thanks ever so for the very not useful dating advise. Now I know exactly how to do it once I figure out who to woo… Circe, your fucking useless, arn’t you?

And No, of course I haven’t dated a boy. ~~Why would I?~~ Have you?

Well, shit. I’m properly cross-eyed now, thanks to you, so I better hit the sack before I actually fall asleep and bang my forehead on the desktop. Please pet your lion for me. (Does he have a name, by the way? For some reason, I want to call him Lucy.)

-H

PS Yes, I’m fucking sure his name was Tom Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle, in fact. His mother was a Gaunt. Riddle was his father’s name. His Muggle father’s name. Yes, he was a half-blood, believe it or not — which is probably why you haven’t found him in your precious pure-blood listings.

PSS ‘What the shell?’ Seriously, M? Your fucking unbelievable, you know that?

**Author's Note:**

> I love and cherish any and all feedback you’re willing to give me — kudos, comments and recommendations are my primary life sources.
> 
> For more interaction, please find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/drarrelie)


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